


An Efficient Bodily Process

by SharpestScalpel



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles has a very efficient bladder, Desperation Play, M/M, Watersports, erik never stops driving, no one takes off their pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:32:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestScalpel/pseuds/SharpestScalpel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles needs to piss. Erik is not entirely accommodating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Efficient Bodily Process

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mumblemutter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/gifts).



> This is really mumblemutter's fault. I wanted to write something without giant brain-eating backstory and then there was a comment and then this happened.

Charles can clearly remember the first time he saw it in another person's mind: pressure building in the bladder, down through the urethra, encompassing all of the consciousness. He can clearly remember his own response that first time: curiosity at such intense physical sensation.

He's always lived too much in his own head; it's the danger, if it can be considered dangerous and he supposes it can be, of being a telepath. Charles is of the mind, of the intellect, of the id and the ego.

And so he pursues women and men in equal number, seeks out cheap thrills in pubs and lazy afternoon fucks and whatever else he can find to inspire him: _in the body in the body in the body_.

"Can you stop at the next opportunity, please? I'm rather in need of some facilities." They've been driving for hours and Erik hasn't stopped once. This morning's coffee has long since been processed; Charles rather desperately needs to piss. He does not squirm in his seat.

The control Erik has over their vehicle is too precise to be simply a matter of _driving_ , Charles thinks. Erik uses his power to be _aware_ of the car, of every moving and stationary part of it. And then he nudges them along a little faster, a little more efficiently. It alarms Charles a little, when Erik turns his head, takes his eyes off the long road stretching before them; Erik doesn't need to see to operate their vehicle but any number of things could obstruct the road.

"What's the typical response here?" Erik's mouth, already relaxed, quirks up on one side. "You should have gone before we left the house?"

It's the rarity of that expression that catches Charles's breath, like spotting an exotic bird where you had hoped but not expected it to be. "If you weren't so bent on leaving at the most ridiculous hour of morning, I'd have had time to wake up properly." They leave before the sun rises, most mornings. "Instead, I'm forced to down gallons of coffee."

There's no bite to it, though - too much of their banter is for the enjoyment of exercising their minds against each other. No real bite to it.

Though Charles has pondered, in the privacy of his showers, what Erik's bite might be like.

"Have you no control, Charles?" It's accompanied by a raised eyebrow; Charles suspects Erik has deliberately cultivated the expression as a tell, a way to broadcast his dry humor to his traveling companion. The secret to Erik is all in the small details.

Even so, the question goes straight to Charles's cock. He does squirm in his seat at the sensation - everything magnified by the shift in purpose and awareness. His blood seems louder in his ears, heavier in his groin. His pulse speeds up.

The car slows down. "What are you doing?" If it sounds faintly breathless, well, Charles will be embarrassed by that later. He's unsure if Erik intends for Charles to tend to himself by the side of the road or...

It's the undefined possibility that has him licking his lips, pulling his mind back from where it had begun to creep across the distance between them. He cannot simply invade Erik's mind because Erik does something inexplicable. But they don't stop. Erik has simply... stopped rushing. When Charles most wants him to rush. "Erik, really, this is childish."

Erik's half-smile has bloomed into something predatory. The idle speculation Charles has entertained rushes to the forefront of his mind and now he has a clear image: Erik standing behind Charles, grasping Charles's cock in one long-fingered hand, while Charles urinates against a white-tiled wall.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." The eyebrows still broadcasts his true meaning clearly. Erik is playing.

It would be entirely inadvisable to put his hand between his legs, to grip himself tight. The need is exquisite; Erik asked if Charles lacked control - if Charles had the breath for it, he would explain exactly how much control he was exercising.

As it is, Charles is panting. "Erik. Please." It's all the request he can summon.

"I think you can do better than this." Erik's voice has gone low and amused. It's a rumble that makes Charles want to obey. "Hold on, Charles. I'll get you there in time."

Charles tips his head back against the seat, closes his eyes. He can clearly remember the first time he felt someone else's desperation: muscles tightening and relaxing in time with easy breaths meant to calm. His palms are sweaty and he's more than half-hard. He does not squirm in his seat. "I trust you will."


End file.
